"Hey kid, open up." Springer said, banging on the door with his free hand. But as he'd half expected, there was no reply.
Really? The silent game? And Draft complained they didn't treat him like an adult. "Let me in."
"..."
"You want your energon or not? 'Cause I'll be happy to drink it pal."
Silence.
Primus, what did they do to deserve this guy? Springer turned, intending to simply leave the moron to stew without supper, but he stopped himself. Draft hadn't gotten in any trouble recently. Which meant...
/Draft, are you in there? Say something./
There was no answer. Okay, now he was getting a little concerned. "Ultra Magnus, what's the override on junior's door?" The Wrecker called.
There was a shuffling noise, and the door to Ultra Magnus's private berth room/second office slid into the wall. He marched up to Springer and pinged Draft, commanding in a no nonsense tone, "Draft. Open the door."
They waited a full five seconds, then Ultra Magnus's engine gave a funny little rev of annoyance as he punched in the access code. He'd always been able to open Draft's door; better for the sparkling to believe he couldn't. Draft was slumped over on his berth when the door opened, the smell of smoke permeating the air. The datapad jacked into his arm made it clear what had happened.
Ultra Magnus rushed to Draft's side while Springer provided the obligatory:
"OH, FRAG!"
It appeared Draft had fried his processor. Quickly Ultra Magnus gathered his charge in his arms while mindful of the sensitive wings, before taking off for the medbay at a sprint. Springer was right behind him.
"Draft?" Slingshot gaped, having stepped aside to let Ultra Magnus pass. Nobody answered him and he was left bewildered in their wake. The aerialbot stared after them.
What was that about?
When they got there Ultra Magnus fell on the medbay like a ton of bricks, immediately asking the first person he saw, "Where's First Aid?"
"Over there." A familiar voice said, and the CMO eyed the thing his favorite by the book sociopath - not Prowl, the other one - held in his arms. "What happened to him?"
"Fried his processor trying to download the entire Autobot code instead of reading it. New recruits, what are you gonna do?" Springer laughed, manuevering between them (because once you were Ratchet's patient, your ass was his. Plus if he fixed Draft's processor he'd figure everything out and wouldn't that would be awkward.)
Ratchet smirked up at Magnus. "Must be a fan of yours."
"Anyway I know you're really busy, First Aid can take it. Isn't that right? HEY! FIRST AID!" Springer said, shouting that last part.
"Stop yelling in my medbay!" Ratchet yelled.
"Yes?" First Aid poked his head around the corner. When he spotted Draft's limp body he dashed over. "What happened?!"
"First Aid, take care of it." Ratchet sighed dismissively, turning away (as Springer had hoped he would).
"He fried his processor." Ultra Magnus intoned.
"On that berth. Quick."
Ultra Magnus did as he said, and the protectobot scanned Draft for a port before grabbing his arm and inserting a cord that would sync their processors. He tried to shove the guilt away when he saw the damage done; nothing permanent looking, thank Primus, but still enough to incapacitate for a while.
It would be a slow recovery.
First Aid felt Hot Spot mentally nudge him and realized he was projecting his guilt, so he stopped, putting out the mental do not disturb block he reserved for surgeries. He had a patient to focus on.
Sorry this one's super short, but I feel like it would be best to break it up here. I've been informed literally 90% of the plot is Draft getting knocked out and waking up somewhere else, but that'll change. Anyway, please let me know what you think, I love getting reviews/tips!